


The Light

by 87sighs



Category: Queen Sugar (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, F/F, black love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/87sighs/pseuds/87sighs
Summary: Nova's done some soul searching. It leads her to Chantal's door.





	

Nova realizes she does a lot of thinking in her car. Between tracking down leads and checking in on folks around the ward, she has a lot of time with just her silence and miles of thoughts in front of her. 

 

This particular one seemed great right up until she felt the wood beneath her knuckles. She waits, eyes flicking up to the peephole then down to her clenched fist now hanging at her side. 

 

The door opens, and Chantal stands in its opening with a curious though not unfriendly look. Nova’s really missed her.

 

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” 

 

“I was hoping we could talk,” she answers, uncertainty stalling her words. 

 

Nova smiles, breaths coming a little easier when she follows Chantal inside. The home is lived-in and alive, and Nova’s skin tingles being surrounded by so much good energy. Or maybe that’s just the effect that Chantal has on her. 

 

Soft brown eyes stare at Nova, arms folded across the cracked lettering of her Grambling t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” 

 

Deep breath. 

 

“I was thinking about you and what you said last time. I’ve been doing that a lot, so here I am.” Nova holds out her left hand, fingers curled together tightly. Just as Chantal’s brows furrow, Nova opens the fist, letting a small charm drop and sway at the end of its beaded chain. Ganesh. “And I still have this,” Nova finishes playfully. 

 

Chantal’s face opens up then, teeth showing from her wide smile. She shakes her head, arms falling to her sides. “You ain’t slick. I knew you still had it.” 

 

“Oh, yeah? Why didn’t you ask for it back?” 

 

For a quiet moment, the other woman just regards Nova, taking her in from the shoes on her feet to the crown of locs adorning her head. Chantal’s expression sobers. 

 

“Our work is vital, and I believe in you. I wanted you to have a little extra strength, especially with your interview coming up. You didn’t want me there, so this was my way of supporting you in spirit.” Chantal walks over to her couch, and it’s only then that Nova sees her own face looking back in grainy black and white next to Melissa Harris-Perry. The article sits among other newspaper clippings and papers spread somewhat neatly across the coffee table and furniture. 

 

They had spent most of their time at Nova’s, but Chantal’s home really is a hub of resistance - a think tank and safe space for those in the movement. Of course she would want to watch. Probably with a notepad of her talking points, thinking of how she’ll build on what Nova said the next time she’s interviewed. 

 

Chantal taps the paper with her rose-colored fingernails. “Nova, you were amazing. Really. You truly have a calling.” 

 

Nova can feel her cheeks heat, and she ducks her head for a second and murmurs her thanks. She clears her throat softly, gathering the necklace in her palm. Strength, right? 

 

“And it’s not that I didn’t want you there. I did. I do.” Surprise covers Chantal’s face. She’s seated, legs crossed casually as she waits for more. Nova decides to stay put even though the nerves in her belly could just about knock her over. Maybe she’s being too literal, but she’s standing strong in her convictions. It’s only been a few weeks - unrelenting and long in some ways but quick as a blink in others - and she’s made a few realizations. 

 

“Nobody’s ever called a Bordelon docile.” Chantal laughs, short and loud like a trumpet flare. She bobs her head in agreement. “And maybe it’s an oldest child thing. Sometimes I don’t do well with other folks trying to call the shots.”

 

“Trying to help.” 

 

“Right. Trying to help,” she agrees. “See? It’s a work in progress.” 

 

“I don’t mind hard work.”

 

Nova feels her smile grow just as surely as the ground beneath her feels more firm. 

 

“But we definitely have to talk about the big, _blue_ elephant in the room. You know that.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Nova sighs. She looks around the room, fixating for several moments on the sunlight peeking in through the curtains. “I won’t apologize for being with him.” 

 

“I’m not asking you to.” Chantal’s lips purse as she frowns, the easygoing posture closing off. It reminds Nova to be a little less defensive. In a calm, patient voice, Chantal explains, “I can tell you like to see the best in people. It’s one of the things I like about you so much. Now, I can’t pretend to understand how whatever good qualities you see are enough to overlook what he does every day, but I don’t think less of you for it. I’m sorry if it came across that way.” 

 

“So it’s just about the work, not my sexuality?”

 

The couch cushions dip under Chantal’s hands as she pushes to her feet. She’s smooth like flowing water, meeting Nova across the room. A few tendrils of hair frame Chantal’s face. Her eyes are honest and crinkled around the edges from a gentle smile. 

 

“It would be extremely unfair of me to judge you for being with a man when I consider myself pansexual. However you identify - pan, bisexual, queer, whatever - is okay with me. I like who you are. A lot,” she emphasizes while leaning forward into Nova’s space. Not that Nova minds at all. She loves being drawn in by Chantal’s body, the richness and warmth of her scent. “And I like having you to myself.” 

 

“Well, I like that, too.” Nova grins as Chantal tugs one of her locs.

 

This time when Chantal rocks back and crosses her arms, Nova can tell it’s more about keeping her hand from wandering than being upset. 

 

“It’s about the work,” Chantal concludes. It’s unnecessary at this point, but Nova accepts Chantal’s words, feeling the truth of them in her heart. “I just don’t want you to be compromised.” 

 

She’d definitely spent a lot of time considering that word ever since Chantal drove away. Every time she ignored Calvin’s calls and more still when she decided not to. There were things they needed to say to each other when anger and pain weren’t being thrown like darts. When it was over, there were tears, of course, but they were cleansing. 

 

Nova likes living with that peace now. She likes being free.

 

“We’re not so different then because neither do I.” She glances at the gold pendant nestled in her palm. Her thoughts need some kind of order. “My work - _our_ work - is part of me. It’s who I am. I mean, my whole identity is politicized. It’s a fight every day, and there’s no way I can treat my life like it’s a simple nine-to-five job, putting everything aside at home just so dinner’s quiet and nobody gets upset. My mission would suffer, and I think my spirit would, too, eventually.”

 

That type of compartmentalizing had worked, to an extent, but she was far from happy. At times Nova felt embarrassment, guilt about leading a sort of double life; and that’s not even getting into the adultery of it all. Nova’s been unpacking this in her head for days, and it feels good to finally let some of it out. 

 

“I’m gonna be honest, okay? My feelings haven’t just suddenly gone away.” Chantal nods, and Nova is thankful for the understanding. “I don’t have everything figured out, but I’m committed to this work. And I don’t want to be with anyone else. Just you.” 

 

“We do have a great vibe.” 

 

“We do, and I want to nurture that.” 

 

The smile that slowly blossoms on Chantal’s face nearly steals Nova’s breath. She’s positive all over again that she’s making the right decision, facing the right direction. Forward. 

 

“I love your way with words,” Chantal says almost to herself. She slides her arms across Nova’s shoulders, combing her fingers carefully through thick hair. Naturally, Nova wraps her arms around Chantal’s waist. Her lips turn up at the way Chantal studies her. “I’m all in. I just needed to know you are, too.” 

 

Their lips meet, soft and unhurried. Nova tilts her head, putting a breath of distance between them. She brushes her nose against Chantal’s, making the other woman smile. Long lashes curl against the roundness of her cheeks, and Nova pecks one of those dimples before tasting her mouth again. 

 

“I want to take you to my favorite soul food spot soon,” Nova says several moments after, but she doesn’t let go.

 

“Where at?” 

 

“My Aunt Vi’s.” This close together, Nova doesn’t miss the flicker of recognition in Chantal’s eyes. 

 

“I’d like that.” She pulls Nova into a hug, only to back off a split second later. “But listen, if Charley calls me a hood rat or something-”

 

“She wouldn’t do that.” Disbelief. That’s what Chantal’s arched brows mean. Nova can’t help it; she kind of laughs. “Okay, she _would_ but she’s not going to. That’s a work in progress, too, but we’re both trying.”

 

They’ll probably disagree about a million things, but honestly, Nova is sure Charley would easily relate to Chantal’s reserved strength and intelligence more than Nova’s own more fiery approach. Maybe she’s tempting fate, but things can only go up after that initial confrontation at Nova’s place, not to mention the shouting match during the storm about who is and is not occupying her bed.

 

Happiness is still evident on Chantal’s face as she nods her acceptance. Things are all good. 

 

On her way out, Nova keeps her free hand locked with Chantal’s. Some kids are playing nearby, but the women don’t pay it any mind. Nova’s skirt swishes around her as she walks backward a few steps. The loss of contact when they let go brings Nova’s attention back to the small weight in her other hand. She lifts the necklace, and it shines proudly under the sunlight. 

 

“I’m keeping this.”

 

Propping her hip against the door frame, Chantal doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you do that.” 

 

Back behind the wheel of her car, Nova reaches for the dial of the radio, turning up the volume for the short ride home. She wants to hear something upbeat, music to match her joy.

 

end


End file.
